Secret Files on UMWizH Cases
by whitesakura-rain
Summary: Since the start of wizardpersecution, UMWizH has secretly initiated contact between Muggles and Wizards, hoping that Wizards would always be able to coexist with their disadvantaged brethren. The case studies start here...
1. Introduction

Mini Author's Note: This is a series of short stories that will mostly be spin-offs of other fanfics or the canon HP. Suggestions are always welcome, and membership into the UMWizH is open to all who apply P

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. Not that it matters.

Britain--UMWizH--Britain

Name of Society:

**British Union for Muggles-Wizards Harmony** (British UMWizH)

Background Information:

The UMWizH was first started as a joke during 735 AD in Egypt, back in the days when Muggles still coexisted peacefully with Wizardkind. Its founder and first President was Nephosky Sarivan, and typical duties during his day were to organize tea parties for both communities to mingle at.

Since its inception, the UMWizH has risen in popularity due to its many successful inter-community gatherings, and the concept soon entered many continents and their local governments, eventually founding this British branch where we are currently situated.

However, the role of Britain's UMWizH took on a drastic importance as the European continent entered the tenth century, as Muggle-Wizard relationships started to decline and Muggles started to openly persecute their magical counterparts.

Wizards and witches everywhere were eventually advised to hide themselves from the non-magical in an effort to stem the rising amount of deaths.

Even though surveys and research indicated that continuing enforced separation from Muggles was impossible, as the Wizarding community approached hysteria over their increasing role as hunted, the world became divided to the magical and non-magical.

Accepting this in the short run but refusing to let this become an unyielding barrier between Muggles and Wizards, British presidents of UMWizH in a collaboration project with the Society for the Protection of Wizards (SPoW) begun to secretly initiate contact between Muggles and Wizards, hoping that Wizards would always be able to co-exist with their disadvantaged brethren.

After all, as UMWizH reasoned to SPoW, while Wizards have greater advantage in terms of fighting quality, it must be remembered that Muggles have much larger populations.

The weak, when united, can overpower the lonely strong.

Britain--UMWizH--Britain

Index of Successful Muggle-Wizard Contact:

01: Beitris (Scotland, IaH spin-off) Y 980

02: (Scotland? CoS spin-off) Y 1994

Britain--UMWizH--Britain

Author's End Note: Case One is almost done. Please review if you'd like me to do a case on any event in particular within the original HP series.


	2. 01 Beitris

Mini Author's Note: This is a spin-off of Inclusiveness Atypically Hufflepuff, a fanfic written for Veritaserum's bajab's HoH challenge. Since that crazy production took me bloody ages to research, I thought, 'what the heck; don't waste it' and came up with this: the story from Beitris's POV. Hate it or enjoy it, all's up to you!

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. This, however, is.

Requesting: Criticism (to stop me from being weird) and Challenges (to keep me from running out of ideas) Volunteers, anywhere?

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

**SMWC 01: Beitris**

_**This is a transcript of Beitris's experience as extracted through the use of a pensieve and also memory modifications regarding the extraction process. Memories of contact were later returned to subject, albeit slightly modified.**_

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

The third day of the second winter month, 980 AD, was cold, damp and miserable.

Yet Viking-Scot Beitris the Weaver fought through the semi-darkness of the bush and repressed her fear of vindictive goblins, and headed upwards of the highlands, she did not feel the cold—and she was _out_, in the middle of _nowhere_, on a path that she did _not_ recognize, going to a place she did _not_ know.

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

Beitris thought that she was more clammy and stifled under her hangaroc and leines, than shivering.

And if shudders were wracking her body, and quails threatening her mind, it was because her beloved son G'nagal was sick; suddenly, desperately so; in all probability the victim of an evil curse by some haggled old witch who was jealous of his youth and vitality.

As she well knew, curses were notoriously hard to be rid of, and there was no healer skilled enough in the village to cast that malevolence away; but she refused to accept the predicted fate. Her son was her only one in a bevy of daughters, and she would do anything at all to save him. Thus she was now upon a journey of faith; as there was only one hope in the distance for him—a fragile hope that might not even exist.

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

Soft leather boots squished through the last of forest compost, and then Beitris was past the unknown regions of the terrifying woods and entering a wide, open area, where there lay a fenced-off garden. (see end note)

She ran towards it, weary limbs given new hope, though her steps faltered when she saw fully the figure in Irish-style dress within the garden. Instinct told her that this was no servant or mere healer.

Was this really the person she was looking for? And would she have the power to triumph over evil?

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

Thought for G'nagal brought her forward._ Ba-dump. Ba-dum. Ba-dump. _Her heart thud slowly, frightening; she thought that the other must hear it, so loud it sounded to her own ears.

But the woman in blue and yellow and purple just smiled, asking for Beitris's leather pouch, then moved off to gather some herbs with mysterious ceremonies and invocations. It was strange, of course, that no thought that the other might intend harm would cross Beitris's mind. But this, she attributed to the obvious aura of serenity and kindness that the other radiated, that she could usually feel when communing with her inner self at Beltane and the festival of the Goddess. And Beitris prided herself on being able to sense these things very well.

The owner of the herb garden soon returned, and with instructions. "Take this and mix it with a cup of milk and three drops of ale, and some honey to sweeten it all. Your child should be well soon. The petals are for you and your son to consume, and they will boost sleep to replenish energy." Somehow all other necessary knowledge was formed in her mind, and as the white petals were held out Beitris accepted all, heart grateful and with many tumbled thanks.

"It is but my duty," was the murmured response, and "smooth sailing in your voyage through life, Beitris."

Beitris was surprised. To be Viking was to sail the seas, and her name indeed meant a voyage through life.

Yet just as quickly, the surprise faded. This woman was of the good, after all, and the gods had probably given her special knowledge. She smiled at the other, touched by the kind workings of fate, then sketched a curtsey before leaving.

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

Hours later, with the help of the concoction, her irrepressible lad was once more up and chasing the chickens, and the McCorrs were smiling knowingly at her as they passed by with their little flock.

She would always give them a special smile of thanks, and make her mind up to go through the forest once more with a little gift for the one who had saved her son. But she would never actually remember to do so, though she would not know why. There would be a niggling feeling about it at the strangest times, and the talk of evil spreading never affected her as strongly as it did others, as if she knew that somehow they would be protected.

Instead, as a respected member of her community, with the miraculous healing of her son being attributed to special blessings from the gods, she was able to help allay fears of catastrophe and maintain the peace of her little village.

But she never managed to actually form the thought that beyond the trees, there was one whom she knew was powerful enough to cast away the dark. And she would never realize that she had not once heard the healer give her name, or wonder why it did not bother her.

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

_**The McCorrs in this transcript are the McCorrs C. and J. from the members list of UMWizH members then. The woman's son had been magically diagnosed as having eaten fever-inducing berries from an unknown source, and not having the necessary medical knowledge to heal him the McCorrs had taken the initiative to refer Beitris to the Hogwarts wizards, hoping that the best situation would come out of this encounter.**_

_**After the successful healing, an impartial UMWizH recorder, K. O'Reil, took it upon herself to approach the weaver and borrow her memories for filing within our database. Subtle modifications were however made at the insistence of the Hogwarts staff, keeping all tangible knowledge of the journey to the revered school 'locked' unless there arose a desperate need for it again. In this way it was ensured that Hogwarts' peace and silence could be retained, and maximum isolation from the outside world achieved.**_

_**This case has been listed as one of the more successful initiations of non-violent contact between Muggles and Wizards. The McCorrs, who continued to subtly enforce calming vibes in their area of reference, were eventually suitably awarded with "Concerned for the Fate of the Communities" recognition, and blazed onto the roll of "Wizards Genuinely Interested In Maintaining Good Relationships With Our Non-Magical Brethen".**_

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

Author's End Note: Regarding the description of the herb garden as standing alone, "with no other glimpsable building near it", is because Hogwarts is supposedly bewitched so that Muggles could not see it. Being an invention of Godric Gryffindor (here in my imagination, anyway) the "castle" would have really freaked out any normal person! This way it ties in with Helga's unconcern for Beitris's reaction to the strange building in IaH. The herb garden, I allowed to be seen, as it was relatively "normal". And that's about it… by the way, the figure is Helga Hufflepuff.

Post Script: I haven't beta-ed this yet so if anyone picks up on any errors, please tell me!

Beitris--IaH--UMWizH--IaH--Beitris

Author's Replies:

**Arne:** Thanks for the suggestion. I'll make the Ford Anglia case happen in the next chapter in this story! (After I get CoS from the school library, that is) By the way, what is muggles neithborough?


	3. 02 Angus

Mini Author's Note: This is a spin-off of JKR's Chamber of Secrets, and prompted by UMWizH reviewer Arne. Though not exactly detailing Harry and Ron's flight to Hogwarts (since this is a UMWizH folder) it however tells the POV of one of the Muggle observers. I hope that this is enough…?

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine, and neither is CoS. I am merely taking a small section of it, in particular page 62, for my own twisted enjoyment.

Requesting: Criticism (to stop me from being weird) and Challenges (to keep me from running out of ideas) Volunteers, anywhere?

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

**SMWC 02: Angus**

_**The Evening Prophet on the 1st day of September, 1994, had a headline that could be summed up in one word: Shocking. "Flying Ford Anglia Mystifies Muggles!" it read, and within its pages were detailed the names and experiences of six or seven Muggles who had had the unfortunate distinction of having witnessed the path of an illegally bewitched car.**_

_**Under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, any magical activity which risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence. This case was therefore instantly brought to the attention of many ministry parties, including the Improper Use of Magic Office (IUMO) and the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office (MMAO).**_

_**The incident was of course covered up neatly by Obliviators from the IUMO, and a Ministry official from the MMAO was subsequently charged with an enquiry for being the owner of said Ford Anglia. The specific details of that, however, are not available in this folder.**_

_**The following is a transcript of Angus Fleet's experience as extracted through the use of a pensieve. Memories of contact and of the extraction were later returned to subject, albeit slightly modified to give the former a dream-like quality and the latter complete Oblivation.**_

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

The Royal Burgh of Peebles is a small country town in Tweeddale, which is located in the administrative area of The Borders. It is a quiet paradise with old-fashioned values, where light rainfalls, clean air, and bright sunshine attract visitors like nectar lures bees.

Surrounded by hills, farms, and forests, the beautiful valley town still retains its historic layout and is surprisingly left relatively untouched by the modernisms of the outer world. For example, it is still steeped in ancient traditions such as Beltane, which welcomes in the start of summer.

And just as the first day of May is one of the pivotal points of many maidens' lives, it was on the first day of autumn—1st September, 1994 AD—that one of Peebles' _gutterbluids_ was to experience one of the most unbelievable episodes ever.

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

Leaning against the parapet stones of the L-shaped Neidpath Castle, former Cornet Angus Fleet couldn't help gazing into the horizon, at the sheet of pure white that hovered above the rolling countryside.

To any other visitor there, this man was merely enjoying the spectacular view that Neidpath offered; perhaps looking over Hay Lodge Park, where the Highland Games festival would soon be held, or contemplating on the ruins of St Andrew's Church.

In reality, though, Angus was hoping idly that perhaps finally he would be able to glimpse in actuality the glow of Apollo's chariot as he crossed the seas; see the hint of flaming gold that was his horses' manes. Or perhaps, closer to home, the Maid of Neidpath would show herself, in the famed brown dress that she was reputed to garb herself in.

No one would have thought that Angus would be a dreamer, or even that he was one who had the occasional fanciful flight of the bizarre. After all, he was a white-collar banker; a man in one of the most traditional of slow and steady professions that was as rigid and unmovable as the cycle of life. But as facts stood and circumstances proved, he was a hopeless pagan, a believer in all things impossible and of the supernatural.

Perhaps it was exactly these qualities of him, then, that made it so easy for him to recognize the unidentified flying object as something real, though others who had not been engrossed in the preparations for the Games merely blinked and laughed about having looked at the sun too long.

No, he saw it as it was—as a flying, turquoise, ancient-looking Ford Anglia.

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

The Ministry of Magic is notorious for being able to sense use and detection of magic within Muggle-thick areas.

It should therefore not come as a surprise that most of inhabited Britain is peppered with spells which trigger responses to the Ministry every time the word "magic" is mentioned. Of course, with the rising trend of Wiccan practitioners and the continuing tradition of witchdoctors spreading into the British Isles, the spells had to eventually be refined, and some nifty casting soon resulted in triggers being sent only when the user was indeed referring to something unexplainable; that is, something only the Wizarding community should know about.

And, of course, this top-secret and valued breakthrough in magical spell-creation was exactly what alerted the Ministry to Angus's brief and extraordinary observation.

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

Angus would, forever after that, always recall this fantastical episode with a fond, self-depreciating smile. He thought that it was his age catching up with him, though Lord knew that he was still considered by many to be in his prime.

But the hazy recollection of looking upward and seeing a flying vehicle drop from beneath the cover of the clouds for that one heart-stopping moment, when he had thought that he had finally seen what he had waiting for; and his astonishment at actually recognizing the vehicle as one that was common on the roads—he would keep theorizing about that, and wondering what it meant to see cars fly where the clouds were. He would think, and he would wonder, and he would remember old, bygone fantasies about being a swallow in the winds.

He sometimes thought about discussing this with the Society for Paranormal Visions, or with a dream-reader, for surely there must be something in this all, which possessed some deeper level of meaning besides a fantastical daydream? But strangely enough, the instant the notion popped into his mind it would just as quickly exit itself, though he would not know why.

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

As he stood by roads on the way to and fro from work, and saw cars of an exceptional blue colour, he would have moments of déjà vu, and internally be transported back to that one marvelous day when he felt that his childhood had suddenly returned.

Years later, as he found himself ill and in the Critical Care Unit, he would abruptly realize, with the piercing certainty of knowledge that people in their last moments have, that he had indeed seen something magical on that day—that somehow the unexpected had been granted to him in sight, and he would pass quietly and with a fulfilled smile.

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

_**After reports of Muggle viewings regarding this abnormal exhibition, undercover UMWizH member Jameson Proles in the IUMO immediately took an opportunity to approach Mr Fleet and borrow his memories for filing within our database. Seeing as the man did not, in fact, reject the thought of different existing communities, Proles determined that only subtle modifications had to be made to his memories, as opposed to complete Obliviation. Unfortunately the same can not be said of the other Muggles, as the teams dispatched to cover up there did not contain members sympathetic to our cause.**_

_**This particular case study has been listed under the heading of "Successful Reconciliation of Muggles-Wizards Contact". Proles was recommended for his role in keeping the Muggle community ignorant of our true existence, and therefore referred to the DeModifications Section for further work.**_

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

Author's End Note: Hmm. That was totally random—comments please?

Post Script: I haven't beta-ed this yet so if anyone picks up on any errors, please tell me!

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

Author's Replies:

**bajab:** Um… well the long version is slipped in after IaH if you're interested… you might have seen it already, might have not P I thought that most readers probably wouldn't be interested in reading a whole junk of words again so… well, that's what happened to that last chapter!


	4. 03 Rolf

Mini Author's Note: This is a spin-off of JKR's Philosopher's Stone and was prompted by a suggestion of UMWizH reviewer bajab. It's a little tale about a Muggle who sees Hagrid streak by on Sirius's motorbike and maybe has an epiphany of sorts because of it. It's weird how people can connect the strangest things with their own lives, ne?

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine, and neither is PStone. I just like playing games with it. :grins:

Requesting: Criticism (to stop me from being weird) and Challenges (to keep me from running out of ideas) Volunteers, anywhere? And… what is muggles neithborough? I couldn't google it!! Is it typed wrongly…?

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

**SMWC 03: Rolf**

_**The loud and flashy actions of Order of the Pheonix member Sirius Black when young were notorious as being borderline ministry-defying on many counts. One item of his possessions in particular caused quite an uproar when discovered—a motorcycle that was bewitched to fly. Yet due perhaps to his admitted skill in manipulating both spells and magic, his lineage, as well as to his surprising discretion, he was never officially brought to court for it. Indeed, he was instead defended by the argument that his transportation of choice was instrumental in the successful entering of unApparitionable locations.**_

_**This would seem to be a random transcript of a particular muggle's experience with said flying vehicle. No citations were listed on its cover, and the file was just randomly discovered slotted into the drawer. As it is presumed to include some mention of the day Dark Lord Voldemort was first defeated, it has therefore been tagged as SMWC 03.**_

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

Rolf sometimes dreamed of seeing a real-life Pegasus cross the heavens. He dreamt of catching it, taming it, riding it out of his limited world to reach the boundaries and beyond. He knew that it was an impossibility, though, so he kept that desire hidden deep within his soul.

Pegasus was one of the few myths that supported the myth that was Bellerophon; just like the Chimera was, and the gods of Greece, and the legendary Mount Olympus which was their home. There were many myths about Bellerophon's beginnings, his eventual glory and his final downfall, and Rolf was aware of each and every one of them. After all, the guy _was_ his namesake (he'd chosen this name himself), and there was something gratifying about being named after such a personage, instead of just being named Rolf because his mom (he'd never known either her or his dad) _liked_ the sound of the word.

Other than that, no matter the amount of deviations pertaining to his origins or his fate, all narrations tallied in saying that Bellerophon had been a hero in his prime; he had been the fabled slayer of the devastating beast that was the Chimera, and the defeater of the Amazon women (among others). Since his victories were mostly what the masses remembered in regard to his mythdom (no one really wants to know unhappy endings), his was a fitting image to superimpose upon Rolf's current role as fast-rising corporate mogul.

But yet the flying horse was what had captured his attention (not that he would ever tell anyone), and Rolf wished that he had himself a Pegasus. One that was truly loyal, of course, and naturally one that wouldn't throw him, ever.

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Rolf was an orphan, and as such he had no backing with which he could make himself a stand. So he had his beginnings in a mid-level organization, which treated him like any other graduate (which meant that the upper-levels took his ideas as their own and gave him no credit for profits). He didn't mind (not yet), since he knew he was still fresh and needed the experience (and they were beginning to see his worth, he knew).

A rival company, however, recognized his talent (his business acumen, his sales record; they spoke for him where his superiors didn't). They offered to take him in (increase his salary, promote his position), but Rolf refused. He wanted to remain loyal until he could build a base of his own, he said. (And he knew that deflecting would bring him a bad reputation.)

He thought that this was as far as it would go, but it was not to be so. (But then what usually is?)

One day he entered his department and found a letter requesting that he resign. He had been framed, accused of having sold company secrets to a competitor (which was laughable, since he had no access to the sort of secrets which would have been valuable), and more-or-less sacked.

Rolf was angry, and vengeful. Here was the Corithian end of his current career, the exile for a crime he did not commit; he could stay here no longer, whence now could he go?

He sought not a Proetus or Iobates of his own, for fear of meeting a Stheneboea too. No, Rolf would not let the history of Bellerophon control him—he would control the other's destiny and thus mould his own. Remove the bad, and harness only the good—he would slay the chimera, and claim his Pegasus, but he would not be thrown or betrayed.

No, no more would he be thrown. (He would not _let_ himself be thrown.) And what better way to protect his position than to create one for himself?

Thus, he struck out on his own.

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

Years later, an ordinary day in Rolf's book became a nine-to-nine round of successfully exploiting the world's economy at the expense of other top-level managers around the globe. It was perhaps a 'bloodthirsty pastime', but then Rolf knew that there was a need to prove himself to those stuck-up silver-spooned CEOs who had inherited their places. No one would take notice of this nobody little orphan otherwise.

He exulted in bringing competitors to their knees (the useless wimps) and waging new war upon other organizations (mainly because he _could _and they were too arrogant to realize the danger they were in). His brainchild, B-Rophon Telex, was after all a fast-established powerhouse in the dimming world of communications and technology, and like a Pegasus in a field of ordinary horses, it had the ability to fly much higher than the average company did (which was why he loved BRT so much). In fact, in recent years BRT had spread its swiftly-consolidated influence to other industries, and was even now bribing its way into the political world.

Rolf loved his job, and he loved his success even more. Nothing thrilled him better than attending another board meeting and seeing another company lying crippled at the feet of him and his (especially the company which had failed him, and the rival who had framed him); defeated, by his strategised and systematic destruction of their credibility and economic alliances (the media industry was a good friend and was well rewarded for its help). It did for him what caffeine and drugs could not (not that he took those), and it achieved the same effects—spurred recklessness.

It was perhaps this spurred recklessness in the blaze of his most recent 'win', then, and the accumulated arrogance a relatively young 28-year-old can only have after defeating more than a score of industrial old-timers, that made him set his eyes on a new target. He wanted to join the 'god rank' of his field, and even make his way to the very top. He wanted to be where the Zeus of the communications world, E\E Megations, was right now.

It was maybe the optimism and foolishness of youth that made him blind to the rising tide against him. He didn't concern himself with the subtle alliances being made between defeated opponents, deeming them already useless since_ he_ had been the one to break them. (He didn't consider that the many weak might overcome the lone strong.) He didn't see the 'god ranked' heavyweights stopping their inter-rivalries and forging temporary pacts. He didn't feel his danger.

But it was definitely the power that went to his head. It was the invincible feeling that would only arise when the market seemed to be swirling to his whims, as if it was commanded by magic to obey his every want. (He would never have imagined that it was just an enemy tactic to make him overconfident now.)

So one day, he decided. The market had been mostly brought to heel; BRT was already in the top ranks, just missing the super-powers by a small margin. Small fry would appease his ambition no longer—it was time for this new Bellerophon and his Pegasus to fly to Mount Olympus.

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

"Which next, Rolf?" asked his right-hand man and childhood playmate one morning after board reports were done and the others were filing out. "Which company will you take down?" The customary answer, the usual wondering which step higher the President wished to take.

Rolf smiled, and twirled his pen, and leaned over to the pie chart that the sales section had drawn of the telecommunications market. The nib touched the smooth paper; dark blue ink brought the largest section into even more prominence.

"We take down Zeus, and mount our Olympus," was the answer. Bring down the largest competitor, and lord over the whole market.

The room seemed to stop breathing. Some who had been leaving the room, halted and turned to the speaking duo. (And of course, no one missed the inclusive language. That was what they loved about their leader—the company and him worked as one.)

"Bellerophon was thrown by Pegasus when he tried to get to Mount Olympus," observed the older Vice President, as if unconcerned. "You are not merely trying to get there. What makes you think you will not be thrown?"

"My Pegasus will not throw me," replied Rolf, tone assured. "I did not get the bridle from someone else; the steed was of my own creation. It will not throw me, but will listen to my direction, and we will fly to great heights together."

"Zeus sent a gadfly to sting Pegasus, and thus he threw his rider. Our Zeus will do much more than that, as you seek to overthrow even him."

"Then I will protect my Pegasus, so that nothing, not even a gadfly, will come near."

"And if the cause of destruction is already on your horse's mane?"

"I will command his bit, so that he does not spook."

"Even if it means you will both plunge to your deaths?" A brow was lifted, eyes assessing with placid intensity.

The other's gaze was squarely met. "We will not plunge."

"You sound so certain." A hint of humour suffused the older voice.

"Because I am," said Rolf, and that was the end of the discussion.

The others shuffled out of the conference room, knowing that what had gone on was meant only for their ears. No one else should know.

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Two nights before the newest strategy was to be put into motion, the two leaders of BRT sat together after dinner.

Looking out of a wall-high window and contemplating the city's lights, the older man started reciting a paragraph, seemingly from memory.

"The hero Bellerophon's greatest desire was to ride the magnificent winged horse, Pegasus. One night, the goddess Athena appeared to him in a dream and spoke, and the next morning Bellerophon woke to find a golden bridle at his feet. He went to a meadow said to be Pegasus' favorite, and found the wonderful horse there. Instead of resisting or flying away, Pegasus trotted right over and tamely allowed himself to be mounted. Horse and rider were a perfect match, and they had many exciting and successful adventures. But Bellerophon let his success go to his head, and he became determined to become a god. After all, if he could ride Pegasus, he could do anything, right? So one day, he leaped onto Pegasus' back and urged him up toward Olympus, the home of the gods. Pegasus was wiser and for the first time, would not obey his rider's command. He threw the mortal to the ground and flew away. Bellerophon, whose ambition had grown too great, was fated to wander on foot for the rest of his life, and avoided contact with other people."

"What is the point of your little story?" asked Rolf, knowing that there was one. Ice clinked in his high-stemmed glass of wine.

"Just that ambition can destroy," was the calm answer. "There are those who would seek to drown others at the sign that their positions will be compromised."

"Man is born with ambition," Rolf retorted. "It's what defines us from other sentients."

"Man does not need ambition to be happy. Pegasus was happy without ambition," offered his deputy.

"Man needs ambition to attain his full potential, and talent needs an opportunity to display itself." Rolf suddenly smiled. "Give me an impossible term, and I'll retract my ambition to overthrow this Zeus now," he said.

The other hesitated. "You would give it up so easily?"

"I am becoming jaded of this arena; I need a new challenge. If your impossible event comes to pass, then why not? I will find a new life and a new Pegasus."

A face grew pale. "I do not wish for you to abandon your Pegasus," he said softly. "It would die without you."

"Then I will stay and tend to it, but will not bring it any farther then where we already are. I will give it to another, but stay on as a stablemaster. I will check in regularly on it."

"Yet I do not wish for that either." He spoke as if with sudden realization. "Pegasus would not be able to live with another at the bridle."

"What then do you want Bellerophon to do with Pegasus, now that their adventurous days might be over? Bellerophon will not settle for a tame life, and Pegasus wants peacefulness but not the life without him."

The man was silent, lost.

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"Pegasus would not mind if Bellerophon were to scale Mount Olympus," was the careful answer the next morning. "It just minds that Bellerophon had wanted to be a god without working towards it himself."

"Bellerophon was a hero and attained many impossible deeds. In what way was he not qualified to be a god?"

"…I don't know."

Rolf took pity upon the other. "Give me your terms, and I shall give you the answer."

"If you see… really see… your Pegasus between now and tomorrow, you will not try to scale Mount Olympus within the next five years." So many possibilities, so many ways to interpret the question, so many ways to achieve the impossible.

"Done."

"And your answer?" He wondered whether this task was too easy.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

Tuesday was a strange day. Things out of the ordinary were happening everywhere; owls covered the sky as heavily as stormclouds did, and shooting stars fell down in Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee. Rolf stood by his window in his magnificent office, looking—really looking. Outside, inside, everywhere.

"My Pegasus?" he asked no one with a half-smile. "If only…."

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That night, Rolf was awakened by a roaring sound. He turned clumsily in his bed and frowned before pressing the button to open his windows. Then he saw it, the shadowy figure speeding across the moon's representation, at a speed no airplane had, and with a shape no flying vehicle had.

He saw it, and he blinked, and he saw it no more.

Rolf smiled, wistfully.

"My Pegasus? If only…."

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

The office the next morning was unsettled. Staff tried to work, but ended up milling around. They all knew that something important was brewing today—something important was going to happen. They saw it in the Vice President's face as he paced outside their chief's door and waited for him to arrive. They saw it in the faces of the higher-level management as they exchanged little glances. They saw it in each other.

Then Rolf appeared, face contemplative as always.

His gaze rested upon them; the bright faces of his staff, the loyal faces of his managers, the masked uncertainty of his deputy.

Then he smiled, and some standing close to him heard the following sentence: "My Pegasus? I think, Yeah…."

SBike--PS--UMWizH--PS--SBike

Minutes later, Rolf was in his leather seat and twirling his pen in his fingers.

His old friend sat opposite him, restless.

The folders for the implementation of the market-invasion plan sat between them, and nervous glances (not Rolf's) were darting constantly to them.

Rolf saw them, and he smiled.

Five minutes passed; ten; then fifteen.

He sighed, and finally took pity on the other, answering the unspoken question hanging between them.

"There will be no need for the files," he said comfortably. "Not in the next five years."

His deputy's head snapped to him so fast Rolf wondered how his neck was not sprained.

"You saw your Pegasus?" was the tight question.

"Mmm," Rolf smiled airily.

"If I may ask… what was it?"

Rolf angled his long-time friend a brow, wondering how much to tell him. He decided not to tell him the truth; truth was always a fatal weakpoint, and he didn't need anyone to know this particular truth.

"I saw a Pegasus fly past the moon last night," he replied, tone wistful. Sleep and dreams had combined to show the flying figure as more than it had been. "So… you win."

Barely discernable regret crossed the older person's face, and then his back straightened. "What next, then?"

"We consolidate our position. And in five years, we automatically reach the tip of Mount Olympus."

"Flying?"

"No, walking. I want Pegasus to be able to find his position at the top as something he had expected, not something that had happened spur-of-the-moment because his master had willed it with an order."

"Not hungry for adventure?"

"Stabilising our position will be adventure enough. I'll want everyone to acknowledge that we're the best, and acknowledge it with the same acknowledgement they give to the clouds in the sky."

"In what way was Bellerophon not qualified to be a god?" The bugging question was thrown out.

"He desired a place which he could not keep. That is all."

A nod, and then a pause, and then, hesitantly, "What will you do with Pegasus?"

Rolf measured the other up. "…Just stay with him, and be what he wants me to be."

Small smiles reflected each other, but not with the same meaning.

Suddenly deciding, BRT's vice president nodded his head towards the files. "Look at the first one; your copy."

Rolf shook his head. "I would rather not." He stretched. "It would be something icky anyway."

"A great President, saying the word 'icky'?" He would not reveal the relief he felt.

"You've heard plenty more from me in our time."

"…Our time hasn't passed yet." Eyes flickered.

Rolf took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "…No, it hasn't, has it?"

Smiles twitched again, but with more harmony than previously.

"Good day then, Rolf." The other rose to leave. "I'll go back to work?"

"Yeah. Ta, pal."

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The pile of folders lay on the desk until Rolf asked his secretary to enter and dispose of it, untouched.

No one other than its preparor ever saw the letter of resignation within, and confessions that if Rolf had continued to try destroying BRT, one would have tried to dispose of Rolf first.

But two people knew what was written within, and they both knew that the other knew.

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A whole-company picture sat on the desk, its cohesion perfectly captured and eternalized to remind all of its beauty. The highest ranked were sprawled on the ground in front, in various poses, and the rest of the staff dotted themselves everywhere in the room where the picture was taken—Rolf's living room. "My Pegasus…" murmured Rolf as he gazed at the framed image.

And then he smiled, eyes zeroing in on a familiar face. "Pegasus."

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_**The source of this file is unknown, just as the reason for it being here is not clear. UMWizH members would perhaps like to debate on this?**_

FAnglia--CoS--UMWizH--CoS--FAnglia

Author's End Note: Hmm. That was totally random—comments please? I wanted to put it up on fictionpress, but umm then I would have the change the story again. And it wouldn't do to be a one-shot if I did an FP on it. So… it's stuck here. Umm. Whadja think?

Post Script: I haven't beta-ed this yet so if anyone picks up on any errors, please tell me!!

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Author's Replies:

**bajab:** Thanks hmm I've used the Sirius-motorbike idea as you have seen—suddenly popped into my head so I thought 'why the hell not'? Anyway, hope you enjoy this


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